


Reframe the Future (but at what cost)

by reveriewit



Series: Stark Moments [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Civil War (Marvel), Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 18:17:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19323514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reveriewit/pseuds/reveriewit
Summary: The uncomfortable moment in which Tony Stark comes face-to-face with Miriam Spencer following his presentation at MIT.





	Reframe the Future (but at what cost)

          The dim light overhead flickers within the dingy hallway, the incessant electronic buzz contending with the persistent echo of applause and enthusiastic laughter lingering in the hollow walls, a  ** _thrum_** of excitable commotion that completely surrounds the futurist and the shorter stature of the passively confrontational woman.

                **(**   _based on experience and judging by the frequency of inconsistent traversal of luminosity from ionised mercury vapour, the engineer ascertains that the overhead triphosphor fluorescent tube light is on its last leg, its starter switch due for inevitable replacement within the next 37 minutes. Not that that would be his job to do so - what was he, the janitor?_   **)  
**

_“They say there’s a correlation between generosity and guilt. But, if you’ve got the money, break as many eggs as you like--- Right?”_   

          MIT was always full of surprises despite the man’s judgemental perception of the broadening range in its prospectus, a  ** _bemusement_**  in how some of the departments were beginning to favour funding for the arts and humanities over the sciences  **(** _Christ..._   **)**. And yet Stark’s rehearsed shit-eating grin and comfortable bravado essentially fades away within the elongated and narrow corridor, the speech revolving around a _"$611 million experiment to process his grief"_  abruptly crashing down around him as the woman’s tone cuts right through him, the proud man oddly affronted and on the back-foot before she truly begins in earnest - this  **(**   _hopefully short_   **)**  conversation can lead anywhere, giving credence to the notion that the creator was firmly  ** _not_** keen on meet-and-greets after events.

          The engineer uneasily shifts his weight from one foot to another, hands slipped into the confines of his pockets as his dark line of vision diverts from her confidently upright form towards the closed elevator doors, a deft digit extended to prod at the button to call upon the contraption for her to head to the building’s upper levels - a gesture which is an attempt to conclude the uncomfortable segue. She affirms that she’s  **“** _right where she wants to be_ **”** , a palm rummaging in a clutch bag to retrieve a potentially foreboding object from its shallow depths, a motion that has the inventor  ** _on edge,_**  instinct and quick reflexes setting in to defensively grab a hold of her wrist - the firm gesture met with hardened disinterest from the stern company, an apology swiftly returned to her by the man regardless of experienced justification.

                **(**   _after all, occupational hazards were considerably unfortunate_ **)**

_“I work for the state department, Human Resources. I know it’s boring but it enabled me to raise a son. I’m very **proud** of what he grew up to be.”_

          A determined palm  ** _slams_** a photograph against the man, the sudden newfound pressure upon his person causing for the futurist’s gaze to instantly flit towards it and take a hold of the flimsy sheath of glazed paper, his expression instantaneously  ** _crumbling_**  with the sight that he’s regrettably faced with. His stance reels backwards a step, an unrelenting tension traversing across sinew within the appendage, mouth suddenly parched and devoid of fluid. The photo portrays an idyllic scene that  ** _exudes_** the embodiment of a pleasant memory, the broadly smiling visage of a young man caught off guard by a candid photographer. A portrait that’s garishly smeared with vibrancy and an overabundance of seasonal warmth. Stark wonders if a member of their family had taken it, integral bonds formed between one another informing the cue to capture this moment and its inexplicably amicable, albeit faraway, look.

                **(**   _is this what it means to be a happy and carefree - laughter that isn’t forced for a perfected Polaroid finish to be hung above a fireplace? Stark wouldn’t know, hippocampus stimulated as he’s momentarily lost in his thoughts of escalating arguments and verbal assault increasingly maligned in snide remarks between himself and his father. Despair heavily cloying as the man’s mother tries to quell the familial strain..._   **)**

_“His name was Charlie Spencer. You murdered him. In Sokovia. Not that that matters in the least to you. You think you fight for us, you just fight for yourself..."  
_

**(**   ** _bullshit_**   _\- that--- that wasn’t solely down to him. Stark **wasn’t** the only person present on that goddamned mission. An initial thought which enrages and tears him apart... _ **)**

But the resentful sensation gives way for an overwhelming means of culpability  ** _clawing_**  at the industrialist, lips firmly pursed together as nostrils flare, a huff of warm air exhaled as his stern and self-assured resolve begins to shatter, shoulders growing taught. The woman continues, accusatory words delivering a  ** _coup de grâce,_**  the usually talkative Avenger a mere shell of his usual self regardless of numerous retorts bubbling beneath the surface. Staring morosely at the woman, the futurist’s expression subdues with a burdensome means of heightened stigma and silence, punctuated by a vague shake of his head.

_“Who’s going to avenge my son, Stark? He’s dead, and I blame **you.** ”_


End file.
